


Don't Want to Give You All My Pieces

by flight815kitsune



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Loss of Identity, Past Mind Control, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:10:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2397935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flight815kitsune/pseuds/flight815kitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Winter Soldier makes a deal with a god of mischief to try and remember the man he once was, and Loki might get something he's been wanting in return- a way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Little Mortal. Shattered beyond repair. Pieced together with willpower and bits of metal. It would be painful if it weren’t so pitiful.

Loki’s fingertips trace along a stubbled jawline. The blue eyes that meet his gaze are both desperate and cautions. The weariness in them is underscored by the dark shadows around them from too-little sleep and the thinness in his face that could possibly be remedied with a better diet. Haunted was an apt description. The way he grit his teeth made his jaw seem all the sharper. In poorer lighting, he would appear as more ghoul than man. He does not shy away from the touch. He was treading the fine line between mad and undeniably brave, considering that he had just been taken to parts unknown by an enemy.

The change of location was not far, merely a block or two from the original battleground. The building was brick, with browning ivy trailing down the side. A broken fire escape climbed the rear, a dark snake of ladders and platforms against the faded red. Some of the windows were boarded up, some were miraculously unshattered, and still others were cracked or missing with no attempt having been made to repair them. The abandoned apartment he took them to was missing part of the ceiling (likely from some forgotten battle) that had never been repaired due to the building’s current state. A broken recliner sat atop the discolored carpet, the arms and back slowly surrendering to the demand of gravity. Still-shiny springs peeked from the tattered and greening formerly-cream couch, which was backed against the wall.

Loki left the other man standing beside the simple metal and wood kitchen table. There were three chairs tucked beneath it, in various states of disrepair. He was free to take one, but he seemed to not acknowledge their existence. Loki leaned against the kitchen counter. The surface was peeling from the wood, and there was a gaping hole where the basin of the sink had once rested. However, it still seemed cleaner than the rest of the place. Enough to rest his hands against while the few injuries he had trickled blood down his skin and scattered red drops on the floor.

This one had seen just what he and his brother were capable of, fighting in the streets of New York. This man had seen him shrug off lightning and arrows and laugh at the blood on the street. He hadn’t even been the main attraction. Victor had been the one causing most of the damage, he was simply willing to use the chaos to take one particular piece of jewelry from a nearby shop display. If he also happened to be a diversion while Victor made his escape- well...he did owe the man one minor favor for his help escaping a SHIELD cell a few months ago.

This man, with his too-large clothes and unkempt hair, had fired his rifle and expected a god to fall.

No. Not fall. The weapon was abandoned on a nearby rooftop, but the man’s posture, his calmness, revealed the truth- that he himself was far more dangerous than the gun he had willingly abandoned. It was an expression he was all-too-familiar with.

For reasons of his own, this man wanted to be here. He had wanted this. Had wanted to become the center of attention.

Well, well, well. Perhaps not as far gone as he had thought. Clever, but a fool if he thought a one-on-one confrontation had any chance of ending in his favor.

“You wished to speak with me.” Loki grins, making no attempt to hide the sharp edges of his smile. Nothing would scare this one away, and the burn of healing gunshot wounds made him feel vicious.

A gulp, though he does not waver as he stands at attention. It was as though he was reporting to a superior officer and not a man who had tossed a car at superheroes just a few minutes prior. “I’ve collected some information about you.”

“Have you?” Let him talk.

“You are Loki. Formerly of Asgard.”

“That is not much information for one in your line of work.” His posture said soldier, but everything else about him screamed spy.

“You’re a magic user.”

“Better.” His praise sounds more like a threat.

“You can manipulate minds, given the right resources.”

“Perhaps.” Without the staff it would be tricky. Not impossible, but certainly not easy. It was interesting that he had mentioned resources. Even some of his occasional allies seemed to forget that his visit to midgard had not been unassisted. He did not always argue the details, as it never hurt when the ones capable of turning on you thought you were greater than you were.

The man relaxed, letting his shoulders drop and unlocking his knees as though that not-quite-admission of skill was what he had been waiting for. “You’re gonna help me,” he said, with an uneven grin and just the right hint of swagger.

“And why, pray tell, would I do that?” Loki asked. He could not deny that asking it felt like falling into a trap.

“Because they made me damn good at killing people and you got a death wish.” And with a few small words he guaranteed himself a chance at negotiations.  
He wasn’t wrong. Still, it was better not to give him too much to work with. “Why would I wish for death?”

“No idea. But you keep trying.”

“What on earth makes you think that?”

The other man scoffed. “I’m not blind.”

Loki offered no other response.

The chopping of a helicopter drawing closer seemed louder.

The other man glanced out of the half-broken window. He gazed at the skyline and kept his eyes on the direction they had come from. “I need to retrieve my weapon. Do you want to meet again, or not?”

It demanded a response. Yes or no. “I have a trinket to sell. I would meet you in two days.”

The man nods, and exits through the broken window to the world beyond.

 **  
**It doesn’t process that they had not established a meetingplace until after the other man had rejoined the shadows.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki returned to the building two days later (and a few hours earlier) to make this an acceptable location for which to, in the least, discuss the conditions of an agreement.

 

From the outside, it would appear as is always had. The chipping brick would continue to leave dark dust on the pale sidewalk. The light would still filter through the dingy glass. The evidence of pigeons would mar the windowsills.

However, the inside was a different experience. The walls, while plain, no longer peeled and bowed. In the day, the sun would illuminate everything. At night, candles would provide a flickering warmth. Perhaps not the most effective system, but there was something to be said for aesthetics. The rooms were freshly reinforced to prevent any occupants from falling through the floor, or to have the ceiling collapse upon them. More work around the perimeter of the building would alert them of any and all intruders. it would be blocked from most major means of magical detection. Overall, it was a nice piece of work.

 

A knack for changing his face and being very attuned to the whispers of the darker corners of the world paid off. Selling a cursed locket, one had to have connections. If those connections happened to have information on offer as well, he certainly wouldn’t be complaining.

 

The man who had met with him had, apparently, been in contact with and in search of several magic users. While a majority of those he was said to have been in contact with were on the side of heroes, others were distinctly grey. None of the others could truly be considered villains, at least. Perhaps he was getting desperate. As for the man’s identity, several aliases made appearances in the rumors. Some claimed that he had been the man who had been involved in the Washington, D.C. attack. An online search did reveal certain similarities between the man he would bargain with and man known as the Winter Soldier. Though for a supposed ghost, he left behind far too many witnesses.

 

He did his best to wait in the empty apartment. The place could use more books. As it was, he was attempting to occupy his time with a water-damaged romance novel that had been forgotten in what was once the bedroom, before the bed had grown into the beginnings of a miniature ecosystem. It was a wonder that the mice hadn’t scavenged the pages to nest with, The amount of insects sent scurrying with every footfall were a sign that they were not starving.

The kitchen chair that he had found himself in was on uneven legs that caused it to move forward every time he inhaled too deeply. Still, the worn wood was comfortable.

 

The lights flickered in warning as he reached a scene wherein two potential love interests were fighting for the heroine’s hand. Someone was coming.

A few moments later, his guest slid in through the same window that he had slipped out of on his previous visit. His expression made the redecoration worth it. He had paused, half of his body still within the window frame. His eyes surveyed the room while his lips parted. When he spied Loki dogearing a page and letting the book rest on the kitchen table, impressed quickly won out over confused.

“Like what you’ve done with the place.” He finished climbing through. .  

Loki turned in his seat. “Child’s play.”

The Winter Soldier did not sit. “You thought about my offer?”

“Of course.”

“And?”

“Why, in the nine realms, do you think I would be interested in death?”

“Like I said before. I’m not blind.”

“You’ll need to offer me more than that, I’m afraid.” Loki sighed. “I know far too many skilled in the art of deception to take your offer as it stands. Why do you believe your information is good enough to bargain with?”

“Shield and Hydra used to share the same network. Everything Thor told us about you I had access to. You didn’t fall.”

Loki shook his head. “Your information is flawed.”

“It’s good intel.”

“Trust me. I fell. Letting go of my own choosing does not negate the act of falling.”

The Winter Soldier did not match his smile.

“What else?”

“Most of what went on during the invasion. Not sure why, but you wanted to lose that fight.”

“And…?” Loki starts. Letting another talk was the easiest way to learn the limits to what they knew.

The other man did not accept this question, though that could be a sign of a lack of information or a beneficial amount of experience. “No. No ‘and’. Are you in?”

“What are you asking me to accomplish?”

He exhaled slowly, the words honest and with an element of flatness that spoke of a repeated request. “The things in my head don’t make sense. All I want is someone to fix it.”

“I would need to know how much effort would be required before I can commit myself to such a task. Would this be acceptable?”

The soldier nodded.

There are many techniques for exploring the mind of another. Given the willingness of the other participant and resources available, the complicated sigil drawn on the floor was by far the simplest option. The ink beaded on some of the boards rather than soaking in. While that would not be an issue for such a brief encounter, it had the potential to become problematic if their meetings became regular ones and a change of some sort would be required. 

 

They were seated in the center of the circle, across from each other. Weapons remained within arms reach but not on either’s person.

“This may not be pleasant.” Loki breathed. He extended his hand, palm up. A physical connection would be required for this.

“I know.” He took the offered hand anyway.

 

Chaos. Overwhelming, all-consuming chaos. Being dragged under a crashing wave, pushing through crowds of unfamiliar faces, the scent of smoke and gunpowder. Scraps of scenes, some passing so quickly that the only thing he could gather from them was an impression of emotion. Pain, pleasure, apathy. Rage, grief, joy. Every sensation that one could wish for- each clamoring for attention, demanding it. Confusion reigning over all of them, simply because it was the loudest one there. The desire to laugh quickly quashed by petrifying terror. Sorrow became anger. The hectic rhythm and mixed-up scenes as intoxicating as they are revolting. Faces, faces, faces, all moving too fast to focus on. The scenery constantly shifting so that it was impossible to focus on any single thing.

He had to sever the connection to keep himself whole. He had made a mistake, had gone into this unprepared. He had planned on emptiness, a sheet of ice with fine cracks revealing turbulent waters underneath. That was what had been left behind in his last real attempt to repair damage, when he had been forced to reassemble pieces scattered by the void and a mad titan. That had been severed connections and isolation. This was damage that had attempted to repair itself and had done so incorrectly. This was entirely false experiences layered atop of reality. This was cancer. This was scar tissue. Raging rapids buffeting the few solid rocks that remained. Possibly as much calm beneath the surface as there was at the top- none.

No wonder the man was having problems making sense of the things in his head. It was a wonder that he hadn't been lost there completely, living with that every moment he lost focus. 

The Winter Soldier blinked at the loss of contact. He looked ready to speak when Loki held up a finger to silence him and closed his eyes to the world. 

The real world was just beginning to feel solid beneath him. He had to re-establish a sense of self or risk being unable to access his magic or worse, fall victim to forces beyond his control and burn out in a blaze of destruction. His type of magic was not as prone to such outbursts as a full-fledged chaos magic wielder, one who was at the whims of beings unlike anything in the nine realms, but no practitioner was ever truly free from risk when manipulating the forces of the universe. It had been sloppy to withdraw so abruptly, but the risk of remaining had far outweighed the risk of departing.

“Are you-” The soldier started, only to be cut short.

“Shhh.” He only opened his eyes again only once he was fully grounded. The Winter Soldier had moved forward, like a flower reaching towards the sun.

As his heart began to slow, only one thing truly mattered- though the sensation had only lasted for some small fraction of an instant among the flashes of emotion, he had felt honest happiness. 

Granted, it was another person's happiness, but even if the attempt to end his life failed this would not be an  _entirely_  fruitless endeavor.

Those sharp blue eyes searched his expression for an answer. “You  _will_  help me.”

Loki’s answer was a simple one. “Of course.”


End file.
